


Unsatisfying Physical Arrangements

by 630Kame (Kame630)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Flashbacks, Good Omens Kink Meme, Kink Meme, M/M, Masturbation, No emotions, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Unsatisfying, fuck buddies, period setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-08-20 00:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20218816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kame630/pseuds/630Kame
Summary: Fulfilling a prompt form the Dreamwidth good omens kink listAziraphale and Crowley have an arrangement. They can be sexual, but there are strict rules Crowley had to follow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=602728

Aziraphale makes pleasant conversation, playing the part of a perfect Victorian gentleman. Top hat and tails, perfect posture, and a bright smile while he talks over their afternoon tea in a little cafe they'd discovered a few weeks before. His speech light and friendly, calling Crowley 'dear', and smiling while he talks. They are good friends, and anyone around can tell they've known each other for a very long time.

Crowley listens, his own top hat lying beside him on the table while he drinks his wine and listens. He's not particularly interested in the conversation. Aziraphale was going on and on about some people he'd been helping out, miracles and blessings, the goodie-two-shoes Angel he is. 

But Crowley is more interested in the Angel himself. Everything about Azirapahle makes the Demon want him. Not just in the physical sense, but in the emotional sense. He loved his smile, the way he puts his hand over the Demon's as he leans in to tell him the latest gossip. Crowley wanted that soft affection directed at him. But that's not on the cards for them. He's a Demon, the Angel would never stoop so low, not again, not after that first time.

Azirapahle seems to notice that Crowley isn't listening. He clears his throat to bring attention back to him, and nods downward, towards the demons lap with a questioning look. Crowley's answering nod is a little too eager, ready to take anything he can get.

The Angel has a smirk on his face, getting up and dusting off his coat, requesting a take away box for the cake and sandwiches they hadn't finished. He doesn't wait for them, or the check, he expects that to be taken care of as always, he just walks out of the Cafe and towards the little dwelling he was currently staying at.

Crowley sighed, resting his head on his hand while he watches Azirapahle leave, thanking the staff and cheerfully greeting people as he goes. That's the Azirapahle he wants, not the one he knows will be waiting for him when he arrives at the small cottage.

They'd been doing this for centuries, this little dance. A second, more physical, arrangement. Crowley hated it, but he was too weak to pull away, to not take even the slightest chance to pretend they are something more. It's like throwing crumbs at a starving man, but at least it was  _ something _ .

He pays the check, packs up the take away boxes, and makes the short dreaded walk to meet with Azirapahle. The door is unlocked, so he locks it behind him, leaving the boxes of leftovers in the kitchen before he makes his way to the spare bedroom. He knows this routine all too well.

Azirapahle was already undressing, removing the cravat and waistcoat. He didn't even spare Crowley a glance, no fond hello, or nod of acknowledgement. The warm friend that he'd just had afternoon tea with was gone, replaced by this stoic Angel, who had the mercy to allow this arrangement for the Demon's sake.

"Rules?"

"The same bloody rules we've had for years." Crowley sighs, placing his top hat on the side table as he unbuttoned his coat. They both know the rules by now, but still Aziraphale insists on the charade, probably just to humiliate Crowley. The bastard.

"Rules." The Angels voice doesn't change, raising an eyebrow at Crowley's sass. "If you don't agree with them anymore, then we could always stop this."

"No!" As much as Crowley hates this cold bastard the Angel becomes for this arrangement, he can't lose it. It's the closest he'll ever get to anything else with  _ his _ Angel. So he sighs, looks at a point on the floor, because he doesn't want the Angel to see the look on his face. "I can get myself off if I wish, but you won't touch me. I'm only allowed to touch you as much as I need, to get you off. And no actual sex of any kind."

"Good. Remember, this is for your benefit, not for mine." 

The bastard makes it sound like Crowley  _ wants _ this. He does,but not like this, not with the cold bastard of an Angel  _ his _ Azirapahle becomes for it. Not with all these strict rules to stop them getting attached. It's a power play, the mighty Angel lording over the pitiful Demon, and mercifully letting the Demon get a taste of what he knows he can never have for real.

Azirapahle undoes his trousers, and Crowley licks his lips in anticipation. But he makes no move to undress himself any further, or to touch, not until the Angel is sat on the edge of the bed, completely naked, without a hint of shame. And the bastard is still barely half hard. Crowley's waiting for the nod, the nod that gives him free rein to do what he wants, to take what he wants, and nothing more.

The moment he gets the sign he descends on his target, like a viper lunging at his prey. It's almost pitiful how quick he has the Angels cock in his mouth, desperately sucking and bobbing his head, eyes locked upwards to see any kind of reaction. If he's quick enough he can sometimes get a gasp, or a low groan before the Bastard can stop himself. Today he only gets a sharp intake of breath, and hands gripping tightly to the bedspread. 

Once he's gotten the initial reaction, fairly small but he'll count it as a victory, he slows down, works on actually making this as good for the Angel as he can. It's still Azirapahle in there, somewhere, behind the cold uncaring exterior of the Angel above him. So he takes his time, pulls off with an obscene pop, letting his saliva help slick his hand as he gives it long lavish strokes, feeling it finally get to full hardness under his careful touch. 

He wants to talk. To tell Aziraphale that he wants this to be good for him, that this isn't some damn contract between them. But that's another one of the rules. No emotions, no feelings, no sweet talk, or even dirty talk. It's just the mechanics of it, physical relief, without the emotions behind it. 

Crowley hates all of it. All his skills are learned through this deal, just to try and please Azirapahle, who won't even make eye contact with him. He feels more like a cheap tart than a close friend. Because they  _ are _ still friends, good friends. Outside of this cold exchange, they laugh, and talk for hours on end. They drink, stay up late just enjoying each other's company. But not now, not like this.

Finally, he leans down to give the cock some attention with his mouth, leaving open-mouthed kisses up the side, before licking a wet strip form base to tip on the underside. He lets his tongue play around the sensitive ridge under the head, liking how he hears a slight change in the way the Angel is breathing, the only sign he's affected at all by this treatment.

He looks up at the stoic figure above him, sat prim and proper, even completely nude and in private. His head tilted upwards, like he knows he's better than this, but puts up with this for Crowley's sake. Apart from the hand clenching tightly against the bed, he has no reaction to when Crowley closes his lips around the head and starts suckling gently, letting his tongue play across the sensitive slit.

Crowley's already hard. He might not like this, but his body has slowly conditioned itself to react. The feel of Azirapahle in his mouth, the musky smell of angelic light mixed with old books, the things he imagines when he's alone, with just his hand and an imagination far more colourful and emotional than reality.

While his mouth gets to work, slowly bobbing to take just a little more each time. He zones out, lets his mind wander to the one happy experience that started all of this.

_ Azirapahle panting, face flushed not just from alcohol, and lips swollen from biting back moans that still manage to break through. "C.crowley we, we can't!" It's too late for that, they both know it. Crowley smirks leaving another brushing kiss against the others neck, pulling back with a low groan, like he was giving up the best treat he's ever tasted. "We can Angel. No one has to find out." _

_ They're alone, the Angels robe hanging off him like a shroud, exposing his skin completely to the Demon. He's made an effort at some point, and that effort is now very firmly being handled by Crowley, wringing out the most beautiful moans into the night air. And Aziraphale's body is screaming yes, even as his mouth worries if this is okay. But it's the Angel who kisses the Demon, smothering a desperate and wanton moan. _

Crowley is drawn back to reality by a slight breathy sound above him, his eyes shooting up to catch just a glimpse of a smile before the stoic Angel schools his expression once more. That's why he does this, because sometimes, just sometimes, the Angel cracks just slightly. He doubles his effort, almost desperately bobbing his head to give as much as he can. Because he needs more, he needs another little reaction, a little reassurance, or sign he's doing something right.

He wished Aziraphale would card his well manicured hands through his hair, or grip it tightly and abuse his throat. He wants something, some sign Azirapahle is still at least paying attention to him. Of course he gets nothing in return. So he slips back into his memories. Remembering the sounds and look that he desperately wants again form his Angel.

_ "Is this okay Angel?" Crowley asks, pulling his mouth away from the Angels twitching cock, licking his lips as he looks up at Aziraphale, whos practically shaking as he holds himself up against the wall. The angel nods his head quickly before he finds his words. "Y.yeah. It… it feels really good. Please?" His hips angle forwards, asking with both his words and body for Crowley to continue, and the Demon is more than willing to return to his tasty treat. _

_ He swallows down to the root in one quick motion, like a coiled viper striking at his prey, and the Angel goes weak at the knees with a loud cry of pleasure. _

Crowley's blinks, letting his eyes trail back up to the present Aziraphale's face, so cold and unfeeling. Nothing like the one from their first time, so innocent and sweet, singing praises and touching every chance he can get. It feels like a lifetime ago now. He shifts, reaching down to release his own cock, swollen and demanding attention. He doesn't do more than give it a few quick pumps, because he needs to prepare for what he's going to do next.

He brings a hand up to Aziraphale's waist, and immediately he feels the body under him tensing. "I need leverage to take you deeper, that's all." Crowley assures, pulling his mouth away from his work to adjust himself better, his own voice bitter as he cuts off the objection to the touch. He's not allowed to touch anywhere other then the groin area, and occasionally thighs, if Aziraphale is feeling generous that day.

He waits for the grunt of acknowledgement before he continues. The bastard, not even having the good grace to give him a  _ 'very well' _ or  _ 'then continue' _ , no words at all.

His eyes stayed locked on the Angels face, eagerly hoping for some kind of reaction even after the slight warning he's been given. He takes a deep breath he doesn't actually need and puts the fact he was once a snake to good use. He quickly takes the cock right to the back of his throat, taking advantage of the lack of gag reflex to immediately swallow around it, feeling it twist in his throat from there sudden tightness. His hand tightens against the Angels waist, using it to pull himself tight and not let it slip from his throat.

Above him, Azirapahle face cracks for just a second, his eyes shut tight, and he bites his lip to keep silent, shaking with the force of the action. Within a couple of seconds it's evened out, the Angel is breathing heavier, but he releases the bite on his lip, leaving his eyes closed for now.

It's the most beautiful sight in the world to Crowley, it's why he doesn't mind the way his eyes sting at the tight intrusion in his throat, keeping it there and swallowing for as long as he can before pulling back for breath, letting his hand quickly fly over Aziraphale's cock to make up for the lack of his mouth.

Crowley can feel he's already leaking onto the floor, untouched, and twitching with his own ignored need. But this isn't about the Demon, this about the Angel, it's always been about Azirapahle.

He makes sure his lips are secured around the swollen head of Aziraphale's cock, before reaching down to squeeze the base of his own, letting out a whimper that he knows will vibrate pleasantly up the Angels spine. It's a pathetic sound, but Crowley's dignity died very early on in this arrangement, why worry how pathetic you sound when you're so desperate to please.

He can feel Aziraphale getting close, so he pushed back down slower until he's almost choking, but without a gag reflex it just tightens and pulses around the intrusion. His eyes close, letting his mind wonder again, to the reaction he wants when he can finally tip Aziraphale over the edge.

_ "C.crowley! Stop, I…. Stop!" The Angel sounds distressed, so Crowley pulls back quickly, worried eyes looking up to make sure his Angel is okay.  _

_ "Everything okay?" Aziraphale's face is flushed and again all he can do is nod, before shaking his head, and nodding again. Crowley's face softens, getting up from his knees to kiss first the damp cheeks, and them leave a sweet kiss against the panting lips. "It's a little overwhelming, your first time, isn't it?" There not a hint of a tease in Crowley's voice, just gentle assurances as he pulls Azirapahle away from the wall, and gathers him into his arms to sit on a nearby bench instead.  _

_ "How about we just do this, for now?" And Crowley brings his hand back to the sensitive erection, Azirapahle was so close, it wouldn't take long to finish him off. "Just let it happen. Relax." The Demons voice is soft and soothing, calming the flustered virgin with another kiss as his hand started to move again, bringing him right to the brink. _

There another sound from the Angel, and Crowley hones in on it, using every trick he's got to draw out the release he knows is coming, the hand that he'd been touching himself with comes up to cup and squeeze at the tightening balls instead. This is his favorite part of the evening, this is why he does this.

_ Aziraphale trembles in Crowley's arms, his robe falling off his frame completely as he cries out, face contorted into absolute bliss, muttering phrases under his breath that sound almost like prayers, and the Demon can hear his own name sweetly on the Angels lips. When Aziraphale's eyes finally open, they are shining, so happy and content while he curls up in Crowley's arms and buries himself against his chest. _

Above him Aziraphale bites his lip, eyes squeezed tight and the smallest, held back, breathy moan escaping his lips. His body shakes and his mouth falls open in a silent cry as he spills his seed directly down the Demon's hungry throat. Crowley dutifully swallows everything, pulling back and continuing to slowly bob his head, sucking and massaging every last drop out of him, until Azirapahle is too sensitive and pulls himself back.

There's still no words. Crowley makes sure Azirapahle is cleaned up, using the handkerchief that was left on the bed for just this purpose.

Azirapahle lets out a long sigh, but it's hard to discern any emotion from it, he stretches, looks down at Crowley to see he's finished himself at some point, completely untouched. Nods his head like he's satisfied and offers a smile devoid of emotions. "Clean yourself up and meet me in the kitchen. You know where the washroom is." And just like that he walks out of the room to get himself dressed into fresh clothes.

Crowley's eyes are wet, but he refuses to let the tears roll down his cheek, falling forwards to rest his head against the bed, that still smells strongly of Azirapahle. He needs a moment to pull himself together, to compose himself enough to clean up his shame, and make himself presentable again.

_ "I'm in need of the bathhouse, I think." Aziraphale sighed, adjusting his robe back in place with a sappy little smile still on his face. He'd come down from his high, the two of them sitting side by side in the bench, just leaning against each other and basking in the afterglow of what they'd just done. _

_ "Give me a moment and I'll join you." Crowley purrs, stretching and miricaling himself decent again. _

_ "Actually. I want to go alone… I have to think about this."  _

_ Crowley stood up quickly, panic clear on his face. "Look, what we just did. There was nothing wrong with it. People do it all the time. No one will find out, and it's not like anyone got hurt." Fumbling to try and justify this. Because this was one of the best experiences of his life and he doesn't want it to end because he was too hasty, or foolish, to do it properly. _

_ Azirapahle laughs, shaking his head. "I don't regret what we just shared, Crowley. I just need time. So that I'm better prepared for next time." He assures, giving him a kiss on the cheek, which was a common gesture between men of this culture. _

_ "Next time?" Crowley grinned, his heart full of hope, because they would do this again. Azirapahle wanted this to continue. And he felt his heart jump at that thought, while he made his way back to the inn he was staying at, with a spring in his step. _

Crowley cleans himself, tucks himself away, and walks out of the spare bedroom with his top hat under his arm. Azirapahle is stood in the front room, humming merrily to himself while he unpacks the boxes of leftovers. Normal, happy Azirapahle, who is his best friend once again. He smiles brightly at Crowley, but the Demon keeps on walking out the door, his heart hurting too much to look at the Angel anymore tonight.

Tomorrow he'd be back again and they'll pretend that nothing happened as usual. But for tonight, Crowley makes the lonely walk back to his dwelling, painfully aware that he's tearing himself apart every time he lets this happen. And also, that he won't ever be able to stop. He'll aoways be back for more. 

He's too weak. He wants  _ Azirapahle _ , but he'll take the cold, stoic bastard of an Angel, because he knows that the closest he will ever get. 

It was a single drop of rain to a man dying of thirst. But he foolishly hoped, that maybe if he got enough, it would finally satisfy him.

So he'll willingly go through it all over again, and again, until the end of time.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Everything can change in as little as forty-eight hours.

Forty-eight hours ago, the Angel and Demon happily drinking wine and scotch, while laughing and reminiscing old times, could not have imagined how much their lives would change in such little time.

In the span of two days, the world didn't end, with little actual help from them. Heaven and hell had been outsmarted, and scared into leaving them alone. And a previously destroyed bentley, and burnt bookshop were perfectly restored. A lovely dinner at the Ritz had lead them back said bookstore, for even more drinks in celebration.

They didn't need an excuse to drink, of course. But they took it nonetheless, falling over themselves to recount tales of their thwarting.

"And then he says. 'I'm the archangel  _ fucking _ Gabriel'. Like yeah, no shit asswipe, you're still a fucking asshole!" Crowley laughed, a deep throaty laugh as he leaned back against the sofa with a wide grin across his face.

Aziraphale couldn't help joining in the laughter, as if he could imagine perfectly the condescending face of his now ex-boss. "Wish I could have seen his face when you breathed hellfire at him." Wouldn't he have loved to see that? The mighty Archangel thinking that a Principality was untouchable. "Did he call me 'sunshine'?"

"Yessss!" Crowley shouted, unable to keep the hiss out of his laughter, throwing back his glass of scotch in one swallow. "Could that asshole  _ be _ anymore condescending!"

Aziraphale shook his head finding the whole thing very amusing. If he was thinking any deeper about the whole situation, then he wasn't giving away anything behind that smile, and soft laughter.

Crowley found himself just happy to watch his Angel enjoying himself, how carefree and relaxed he seemed right now, without the heavy weight of heaven on his mind. And yet he looked as radiant as ever, still Angelic even after defying heaven. Crowley always found him beautiful, but right now he was positively glowing.

"Can't believe it. Finally. Complete  _ freedom _ . Both heaven and hell off our back for good." Crowley grinned, leaning back against a column to just look over at Aziraphale, his smile turning softer as he watches the Angel sipping at his own glass, savouring the flavours, smiling in the way he only got after a few drinks, and felt safe with present company.

"We're on our own side." Aziraphale smiles back at the Demon. " 's nice to finally be able to say it." He couldn't dare admit it while he was still a part of the host, but now there was no danger of repercussions, he could say it out loud and relax into their friendship.

Crowley stares at Aziraphale and his heart clenched at the words. How long has he wanted to hear his Angel say that? But it takes a while for his brain to stop staring in shock and break out into a grin so wide, it was truly reminiscent of the fact he was a snake. "Yes. God, angel. Thank you!" Because it's all he wanted, and needed to hear. They were free, there was no need to hide behind secret rendezvous, and hidden locations. 

It's a little overwhelming, but in the best way. Crowley is already a little more than pleasantly tipsy from the alcohol, slumping back against a column, and the smile seems burned into his face as Aziraphale laughs and smiles back at him.

He lets his eyes wander over the Angel’s body, moving from that radiant smile 

downwards, over his ridiculously old fashioned clothes that screamed Aziraphale, old and well loved, completely comfortable regardless of what's going on around him. His thoughts wander as well as his gaze. They're on their own side, they aren't in danger, and he wants the Angel even more after hearing confirmation that they're on their own side from Aziraphale's own angelic voice. 

His eyes wander to Aziraphale's lap, tilting his head to make it clear where he's looking, trying to hint at what he wants. He doesn't ask outright for it, that's not how the arrangement works, he hints, or Aziraphale notices and offers it to him. 

But when his eyes finally trail back up to the Angel’s face, he notices that he's not even looking in his direction. He's turned away to fill up his glass, ignoring, or having not noticed the hint. Either way, Crowley sighed and refills his own glass. Maybe he won't get that tonight, but he kept a little slither of hope, there was still time since they were celebrating.

"You realise we'll be seeing a lot more of each other now?" Aziraphale's chirpy voice broke Crowley out of his thought process, seeing the Angel smiling brightly at him. "No more secret rendezvous, or coded meeting places. We can just meet up in public, I can visit your apartment!" There was no danger in the Angel outwardly admitting to being friends now.

Crowley couldn't help beaming back at that little fact. They'd always had to meet at the bookstore before, because Demons liked to check in on Crowley, and Angels almost never bothered to drop in on Aziraphale. But now he was finally free to bring Aziraphale back to his flat, let him make a dent in those gourmet meals he had in his kitchen. He didn't eat, he just thought the kind of guy he presented as would have a fully stocked kitchen.

"You're  _ alwaysss _ welcome to stay at mine." Crowley couldn't help the happy hiss in his voice. Aziraphale had actually slept at his flat the night before the switch, when there wasn't always a bookshop for him to return to, and Crowley had loved finally having him there.

Aziraphale beamed at the offer, and Crowley hoped he'd hold him too it. He picked up the bottle of wine, tipping it upside down over his glass only to frown that it was completely empty, putting both bottle and glass to the side and preparing to stand on wobbly legs.

"I'll get it." Crowley laughed, not the most stable on his feet either, but he was at least already upright, though only barely with how heavily he was leaning.

"Oh. Would you?" Aziraphale asked, in that gratiful tone of his, eyebrows raised slightly which only cemented the fact that Crowley would do it for him. He was pretty sure the Angel knew he wouldn't say no to that face, he had the Demon wrapped around his little angelic finger.

Crowley stumbled his way into the little kitchenette off the backroom, swaying slightly on the spot as he looked at the larder. Aziraphale kept his supply well stocked with a good variety of alcohol, and the Demon grabbed a fresh bottle of white wine, squinting to read the label before giving up and just hoping it was a good vintage.

He was still smiling when he returned, but he stopped in the doorway, slumping slightly when he took in the full view of the scene in front of him.

Aziraphale had picked up one of his books, flicking lazily through it while he waited for the new bottle. Just casually leaning back on his comfortable chair, surrounded by his books. In the bookstore that didn't have as much as a burn mark from the fire. It was so normal, so familiar, and Crowley's heart ached, because he had almost lost this. He lived and grieved while all this was destroyed. He'd lost his Angel, and now he was back.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Crowley felt the rush of emotions finally catching up to him, and he suddenly, desperately, needed Aziraphale. He couldn't wait for a nod, or for his half drunken Angel to notice his clues. He needed to completely be consumed by him, all of him.

He walked over, placing the bottle on the table, but Aziraphale barely had time to let out a 'thank you' and move to put the book down, before Crowley descended on him. There was most likely a minor miracle that took place, because before Aziraphale could react, his trousers were undone and Crowley had dropped to his knees in front of him. 

"Crowley, what are you...?" 

In seconds, the Demon had his lips wrapped around the Angel’s cock, eyes closed and almost desperately bobbing his head, swallowing him down with no warning. He needed this, to feel Aziraphale under him, take in his scent, taste him, feel the weight of him against his tongue. Just, completely immerse himself in Aziraphale. He was too wrapped up in the experience to notice that even with his fevered work, the Angel was still only half hard.

"Crowley?" The voice above him was confused, and unsure. And Crowley's eyes immediately shot open, his movements freezing, because the Angel never used that tone with him when they were like this. He expected to find the cold disapproving face of the stone cold bastard he was used to trying to please, but all he saw was Aziraphale. The gentle and kind face of his friend, the Aziraphale he wished to do this with. But it felt wrong. This isn't how the exchange went, and his body stayed frozen, wide serpentine eyes locking with sympathetic blue.

It was only when he felt the soft touch of a hand against his cheek that he flinched back, before leaning cautiously into the touch. This is what he'd always wanted, a slight offering of affection, but he'd never been given it. And just the soft voice, the gentle touch, it felt strange, and wrong, after the cold refusal he'd dealt with for millenia. This isn't what he needed, he needed the familiar routine, the rules that kept him grounded in these situations.

"Aziraphale?"

The angel didn't need to use pressure to pull Crowley upwards, the Demon wasn't going to lose that touch, so he followed until they were both stood face to face, the hand still cradling his jaw. Aziraphale's face had changed. Still his friendly Angel, but not as open or soft, there was a curious sternest to his gaze, before he sighed.

"That's not what you need right now." There was a knowing tone to his voice, and he gave a small apologetic smile. But Aziraphale let the hand drop from Crowley's jaw, only to wrap around the Demon instead, pulling him close, so Crowley could rest his head on his shoulder in a hug. "I'm not going anywhere." He soothed, as if he knew what Crowley was thinking.

It was too much for him right now, too much touch, and too much affection. He was truly drowning. And the feeling of being overwhelmed crashed over him in waves. His own arms hesitated, staying at his sides for a moment, before wrapping around Aziraphale as well.

He's not sure when he started crying, but once the first tear falls, the flood gates open. His arms tightened, as he pushed his head into the well worn fabric of Aziraphale's waistcoat, trying to stem the tears, or muffle his crying. 

He didn't know how long they stayed there, Aziraphale's arms around him, just hugging and offering him the physical comfort he needed. But the sun had risen by the time his tears finally stopped and they pulled apart. 

Crowley was too tired to go home, and maybe still too drunk to care. So he lay on the sofa, curled up, and went to sleep, feeling completely numb, and emotionally drained.


End file.
